


while ye may, go marry

by threerings



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Approaching middle-age parents finding time to be kinky, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Dom/sub, Don't copy to another site, Episode: s03e05 A Life in the Day, Established Relationship, Light BDSM, M/M, Magical Sex Toys, Older Q and El, Rope Bondage, Rough Oral Sex, Sub Quentin, dom eliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 09:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18444050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threerings/pseuds/threerings
Summary: Teddy is spending the night with friends, so Quentin and Eliot have the cabin by the mosaic all to themselves.  And a surprising amount of rope...(That's it, this is smut, I can't quote the damn thing it's too smutty.)





	while ye may, go marry

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so remember when Quentin was laying in a pile of ropes and asking Alice to have sex? Yeah, yeah, can't get THAT image out of my brain. Also this is what I write when I'm stressed about canon. Nothing particularly deep, just porn.

“How’s that?” Eliot’s voice came with a self-satisfied smirk as he looked over his handiwork. Quentin was spread out on their bed, horizontally, unable to move from the hemp ropes bound around all his limbs. He tugged experimentally on the ropes that bound his hands to the head and foot of the bed. There was very little give. His legs were even more tightly restrained: thick loops of rope binding his thighs to his calves, then another length of rope tied to those pulling his legs apart, spreading his knees open, secured to the bedframe. He could barely move his lower half at all, and the positioning left him terribly (and wonderfully) exposed and vulnerable. 

Needless to say, he was hard as a rock without Eliot even having touched his cock. He’d taken his time wrapping Quentin up in all this deliciously rough rope, knowing how crazy it drove him. “El,” he said, and there was already pleading in his tone. He saw the sparkle of appreciation flare in Eliot’s eyes. 

“Are you begging already?” Eliot ran a single finger down his chest, avoiding any particularly sensitive areas. He strained against his bonds anyway, trying to follow the contact. “Patience, Q. We’ve got the whole night to ourselves with Teddy staying in the village. I plan to take full advantage of this rare opportunity.” Quentin gave a little groan of complaint, even as he thrilled inwardly. It had been too long since they’d been able to play like this. 

Eliot continued to run his fingers over his exposed skin, down his chest, across his stomach, over the bone of his hip, and up the tender flesh of his left thigh. It tickled slightly and Quentin pulled against the rope instinctively. Eliot smiled. His hand dipped back down the same path, now into the crease of his pelvis, avoiding his twitching cock, dipping down under his balls and teasing at the sensitive skin there before sliding back up his right thigh. Quentin bit his lip and jerked against the ropes, trying to maintain some level of composure. But then the hand was replaced by something hot and wet and Eliot was biting his thigh, sucking and marking him and the sound he made was raw and needy. El chuckled against his skin. 

Quentin’s moans shifted to ones of appreciation as the mouth on his thigh moved lower, pausing at his balls to suck and lick. And then still lower, moving to his hole, lapping at the opening. “Oh, god, El,” he groaned. “Fuck, fuck, yes, please.” Any pretense of self-control left him at the wet press of that muscle into him. He wanted so desperately to press down to meet El’s mouth, to push him deeper, but he couldn’t move. Eliot crouched at the edge of the bed, now alternating tongue and finger, teasing and probing. “Please, please, please,’’ he chanted, turning his face against his bicep to hide as best he could. 

“You want something more inside you?” asked El wickedly. 

“Please, please, _yes._ ”

“Hmm. Alright.” Eliot’s hands interlocked into the familiar tut for the lubrication spell and a moment later Quentin felt the flood of liquid inside him. He heard shifting against the wooden floor of the cabin: clothing rustling, Eliot changing his kneeling position. But when he felt a new touch against his opening it wasn’t Eliot’s cock, or his fingers. It was far too hard to be any part of a body. 

“Wha?” His word was cut off by a gasp as the hard shape was pressed past the ring of muscle with a shove. The very slight roughness of the surface against his sensitive flesh told him it was wooden and for a moment he was confused, wondering if Eliot was fucking him with the broomstick. But he felt the shape widen as it was pressed deeper and then he remembered: the wooden butt plug Eliot had made himself. At some point years and years ago he’d carved and smoothed it, originally for his own use. 

“Oh my god, you still have that thing?” he managed to gasp out. Eliot’s smirk widened. 

“Of course! You don’t think I’d spend this much time on something and then throw it away, do you?” The plug slid the last few inches inside and Quentin exhaled as his muscles relaxed, and breathed into the delicious full feeling. 

“You really...” he huffed a breath, “...are going to...make this last all night...aren’t you?” 

“As long as I can, darling,” said Eliot warmly as he climbed up the bed until he could kiss him. Quentin arched into the contact, reaching for the warm familiarity of his lover’s lips, tongue, taste. Eliot seemed to savor it as well, a slight humming from him buzzing against Q’s lips. 

Eliot eventually pushed himself back up, coming to a towering standing position over Quentin’s restrained form. He began to strip off his clothes, not in an overtly showy way, but with the confidence of a man who knew he was being watched and appreciated. Despite the years that had passed, Quentin had never tired of looking at Eliot’s body. He was so incredibly beautiful, and so often Quentin wondered how in the world someone like himself got to be lucky enough to have sex with _him_. And not just having sex, but catering to his deepest desires like this. Putting this much _effort_ into making Quentin feel good. It was beyond his understanding. 

Having finally removed all his clothing and letting Quentin see his fully hard cock, he crouched down between Q’s spread legs again. He gripped the base of the plug and moved it, tugging and turning it, seemingly just to make Quentin moan. “You like it?” he asked.

“I’d like your cock more.” One brow rose above Eliot’s amused eyes. 

“Well I’ve got another secret trick to share with you.” Eliot’s hand moved in a complicated motion that he couldn’t quite see. The motion finished with a double tap against the base of the wooden plug and then—

“Ah!” he cried as the plug flared into buzzing vibration inside him. Eliot laughed. Quentin knew he looked ridiculous, his mouth gaping open as the waves of sensation moved up his spine. It had been a _long_ time since he’d felt anything like this, and his body wasn’t prepared for the intensity of it. 

“El! Fuck!” Eliot just laughed again, clearly delighted at his response. 

“Good, isn’t it?” he said, not really a question. “I’d almost forgotten about that spell until I found the plug a few weeks ago when I was cleaning out the under bed storage. Good thing Teddy never found it under there, huh?” Eliot moved as he spoke, coming around the foot of the bed to stand close to Quentin’s head. Quentin tilted his head back to see him better and, catching glimpse of his cock just out of reach, opened his mouth in wordless plea. 

“Mmm, yeah, don’t worry, you’re gonna suck this cock.” Eliot’s words had a rough edge and then he was climbing onto the bed next to Q’s head. Then threw a leg over him, his cock pressing against his lips as his weight sank down. Quentin opened up and took him in gratefully. He sucked around the head while he could and slid his tongue up the shaft. But quickly it became apparent who was in charge, and Eliot had hands on both sides of his head, holding him still as he fucked his mouth in long, smooth strokes. Quentin took it as best he could, willing his mouth slack and his throat open. Eliot’s cock hit against the back of his mouth, again and again, and he tried his best to suppress his gag reflex. Then Eliot thrust all the way, the head of his cock in his throat, choking off his air entirely. He stayed there while Quentin thrashed, unable to control himself, his instincts panicking, and after a few seconds Eliot relented and pulled away. 

Quentin gasped for air and coughed, while tears wet his face from being choked like that. Eliot sat back on his heels, watching him recover patiently. The whole time the plug buzzed away inside him, turning his insides to liquid, making his cock and balls ache with the need to be touched. And he couldn’t move, not at all. Not to rock against the wooden shape filling him, teasing against his prostate. Not to wipe the tears out of his eyes or the drool off his lips. And definitely not to touch himself, _or_ Eliot, not to take any kind of control over any other the things happening to his body. His gulping breaths started to sound like sobs. 

“Q?” Eliot’s thumb brushed at the gathered dampness at the corner of his eyes. “Green?” he asked. 

Quentin nodded, then gathered himself enough to form the word, the permission to continue. “Green.” Eliot watched him, eyes sparkling, for another moment to let him get air into his lungs before rising back up and pressing his cock into his mouth once more. Quentin was a little better prepared this time, and determined to let Eliot use him as roughly as he wanted. He fought to let himself go slack, mind floating away while his mouth was filled. Eliot began to make sounds that were nearly growls. He could taste it on his tongue as Eliot got closer to orgasm, felt his thrusts go jerky before he pulled out hastily. 

Eliot’s breath was ragged as he moved off of him. “Whew. If I was still twenty-five I’d come down your throat and leave you like this till I could go again. Actually...I might fuck you and leave you here all night, tied up, helpless, hard, and just use you over and over, as many times as I could.” He was running his fingernails across Quentin’s pec, both of them breathless still. “Would you like that, mmm? Being used like a fuck doll?” 

Quentin couldn’t repress his shiver at the words. The words rained on him as strongly as any blow or caress. “Yeah, I know you would, wouldn’t you? Well, too bad I’m too old and decrepit to fuck you all night anymore.” His nails raked over his nipple and he whimpered. “I’d have to get help from some of the young studs from the village. How’d you feel about that? Me letting a bunch of strong men fuck you, one after the other...me watching...” Quentin’s breathing was shallow and fast. He knew how he must look, how desperate, with his cock bobbing uselessly, dripping pre-come, his arousal now fully over the line into painful. And still that toy teasing inside him. Not enough to come, just enough to keep him desperate and needy. 

“Please...” he whined. “Please.” 

“Oh! Please? You want to be fucked by a bunch of strangers?”

He shook his head violently from side to side. “You. You. Please. _Please, El._ ” 

A finger traced down the side of his face, across his lips, dipping inside and letting him suck on it for a minute. “It’s so tempting to leave you here like this, just to see if you break harder. I need to wash those dishes from earlier...” Quentin thrashed up against his bonds, incoherent protest coming from his throat. He thought he might truly go insane if Eliot left him alone, if he didn’t touch him, fuck him, let him come…

“Shh, shh,” Eliot soothed. “It’s alright, my pretty boy. I’m not leaving.” 

“Please,” he repeated, no other words coming to his tongue. 

“Okay.” Eliot moved back around the bed till he was once more framed by Q’s bound legs. He reached down and got a grip on the plug, shifting it carefully. The new drag of it inside him made him groan. Then Eliot was tugging it free, stretching him open around its width, until it popped out. He bent his long legs and settled onto the mattress, knees sliding under his bound legs to bracket his ass, pushing against his bonds until he was at the right angle. Then his cock at his hole, his already loose and wet hole, and in one hard, fast thrust he buried himself all the way in. 

Quentin screamed, full-throated, pleasure and satisfaction and relief and pain, all at once. And Eliot didn’t relent, didn’t let him catch his breath, but drew back to thrust again and again, deeper than the toy had reached, so much better, rocking just right. Quentin’s vision unfocused, he had nothing to hold onto, was completely at Eliot’s mercy, felt like he would float out of his body. The only thing that held him there were the ropes, burning against his skin with every shudder, creaking in time with Eliot’s rhythm. 

“El, El,” he gasped. “El, I’m gonna...oh fuck, fuck.” 

“You’d better come, Coldwater, cause I’m not gonna last long either,” was the growled reply. Another thrust, another, bruising and perfect, and there, there, and he lost it. Fire shot through him, like battle magic focused on his cock, like the shining brilliance of electricity, everything going white. 

The world only came back into focus for him when Eliot cried out and grabbed onto his shoulder with biting force. He wished he could reach up and wrap his arms around Eliot while he came, but he could only watch his open-mouthed face above him. That was good, too. After a frozen moment, Eliot collapsed onto him, his face against Quentin’s neck. 

As he waited for Eliot to recover, he cataloged his body. His arms ached, his wrists throbbing from him pulling against the rope cuffs for so long. His feet were starting to feel numb. The rest of him still pulsed with the warm relaxation of pleasure. Even the parts that would doubtless be sore tomorrow were feeling only pleasantly flushed now. Besides the stiffness in his limbs, his joints, he felt like he really could go again. Would just lie here content for as long as Eliot wanted him to, let himself be used anyway Eliot desired. Something about the thought gave him a deep feeling of peace and he hummed happily. 

Eventually Eliot stirred. He placed a series of kisses across Quentin’s neck and chest before sitting up and rolling clear of him. “Sorry, I’ll get you out of these as fast as possible.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, feeling a goofy smile stretch his face. He heard a soft chuckle from Eliot’s direction as he set to work on his bonds. Feeling returned to various parts of him as he was freed, suddenly aware of the sore places the ropes had rubbed.  
“Oh, rubbed a little raw? Sorry, was it too much?” Eliot massaged his feet and hands and worried over the red marks burned into his skin. 

“No, it’s fine, El. It was great,” he insisted. After he was finally able to stretch out on the bed properly, Eliot fetched a wet cloth and insisted on cleaning him off himself. Quentin had a hard time keeping his eyelids open, but he enjoyed seeing Eliot’s dark head bent over him. Seeing him so concerned, and beautiful in the firelight. 

“I’ve got that beeswax balm I could put on your wrists,” Eliot offered. 

“I told you, it’s fine,” he said, waving him away. “Besides, I might like if the marks stayed for a while.” He reached for Eliot with a limp hand. “Hey, com’ere.” El obediently settled next to him, smelling like sweat and sex, and Quentin tucked his head against his chest. 

“What are you going to tell your son when he asks how you got rope burns around your wrists?”

Quentin grinned. “I dunno. I was attacked and held captive by vicious bandits, maybe.” 

“Oh, okay, sure. I’m sure that will stop any questions.” Eliot kissed the top of his head.

“Guess he’s too old now for us to say it’s a game grown-ups play, huh?” 

“Yeah, and that backfired when he was six, too, cause he wanted us to tie _him_ up, remember?” Yeah, Quentin remembered. _That_ had been embarrassing until Teddy had forgotten.

“Well, whatever, I don’t care. It’s rare enough we get time to ourselves,” he concluded.

“Yeah.” Another press of lips against his hair. “Goodnight, Q.”

“Night, El. And...thanks.”

“For?”

“This. Yanno, all of it.” The ropes, the kindness, the company...

There was a beat of silence. “Trust me, it’s my pleasure,” said Eliot into the quiet night.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "To The Virgins To Make Much Of Time" by Robert Herrick. (Quentin Coldwater voice: I'm NOT A VIRGIN, GEEZ.) Borrowing from 17th century poetry for my fanfic smut title is peak English Major culture.
> 
> You can follow my Magicians screaming on Tumblr: http://three--rings.tumblr.com


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